


Buried Alive

by LethalLittleSpiderX



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17790629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LethalLittleSpiderX/pseuds/LethalLittleSpiderX
Summary: After Natasha fled from the resort she threw herself into her work, becoming more and more reckless as the months went by.  Eventually it caught up to her.





	Buried Alive

**Explosion – Day 0**

 

Being tied to a chair was becoming a habit. But honestly, the easiest way to get where you needed to be sometimes was to let them bring you in the front door. All that mattered was the girls were gone and the police would be intercepting them. And in case they had funny ideas or were in someone's pocket, she had made sure the FBI and CIA were paying attention. That alone should be enough to get them to safety. Arrangements had been made from there. No one had to know exactly how much work she'd put into it. It's not like she was about to go bragging about it.

The girls would be safe. What happened after that to her didn't matter much.

However, the timer on the explosives was set to go off in 4 minutes and she was ready to go. There really were other places she would rather be. The man in front of her grinned, thinking he had the upper hand. It was getting rather trite. No matter how many times he had hit her, he still hadn't gotten the reaction he wanted.

Obviously it didn't stop him from trying.

All right, she was done. They'd had enough of a head start that she could finish this. Besides, she was getting cold and ready to get dressed. He leaned in to swing again and she snapped her head forward, breaking his nose. Blood spurted, coating her. He howled in pain, screaming profanities at her over and over again.

When he went to hit her again she was up and out of the handcuffs. He connected only with air as she was already in the space behind him. Hands grasped his head and twisted, snapping his neck. He fell to the ground with a _thud_. Not keen on the idea of roaming the place naked while looking for her clothes, she jerked the dress jacket he had on off and wrapped it around her.

“Is that a pistol in your pocket, or were you just happy to see me?” she asked, amused when her hand met blue steel. Widow pulled it out, testing the weight and balance of the weapon in her hand. Maybe luck really was on her side these days.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when she heard the first low boom.

_No!_ She still had time. She _knew_ she still had time!

A crack in the ceiling above her only a breath before it collapsed.

Throwing herself backwards, she tried to avoid it.

_Blinding, crushing pain._

Then the world went black.

 

…

 

With a groan she came to, choking on the dust still floating in the air. No sense of time now and there was no real way for her to know how long she had been under. Eyes fluttered open and she squinted, trying to ascertain exactly what happened. Sun filtered in amid the piles of rubble, dust floating among the bursts of light, swaying on the breeze. Blinking, she shifted to push up off the floor, only to realize a number of things all at once.

First, the entire building had collapsed.

Second, her right arm was broken.

Third, there was barely space to move and the air was thick.

And finally, the entire building was resting on the lower half of her body and she couldn't feel her legs.

 

 

 

 

 

**Day 1 - Collapse**

 

Despite the doors being closed she could still hear the waves as they rolled up onto the beach. A peaceful sound, rhythmic, soothing. And it was warm. Those two things alone were enough to lull her into a twilight state between wakefulness and dreams. The thumb that stroked her cheek as the backs of his fingers brushed hair behind her ear was calloused. Her hand rose to cup his and it was then she realized she was crying. Hot wet tears rolled down her cheeks and he brushed one away.

“Shhhh, don't cry,” he whispered to her.

But she couldn't help it. The sound of the waves rolled over her again then it was all gone and she was cold. So cold.

_Oh God where am I?_

Panic when she didn't have the answer. Something dry and chalky coated her mouth, her skin. It was then she remembered.

The building collapse.

_No, oh no this can't be happening._

Struggling, she pushed with her good hand at the rubble burying her. Claustrophobia swelled and she clawed at it, trying to keep it from overwhelming her mind.

_Think Romanoff!_

Just that burst of motion had worn her out and she had to force her eyes open to see her surroundings. Timber and concrete. That's what was on top of her. Tons of it. Something had kept it from simply cutting her in half, but she couldn't tell what yet. Dust coated everything. Hunks of twisted metal were scattered amid the piles of false stone. If the wiring had sparked at some point, it wasn't now. The light was dimmer now that before but she couldn't tell what time it might be as it came through the piles of debris.

Head tilted back and she tried to find something she could use. It was then she realized she had no sensation from her hips down. And it was limited from there to around the bottom of her rib cage.

She was paralyzed. Eyes squeezed shut and she tried to shove the panic away.

But the cold was seeping in, making what she could feel numb. A different kind of numb.

_I'm dying._

The thought came to her unbidden but she didn't fight it. Knew the weight of the truth in it.

“Don't you dare give up now Tasha.” Clint's voice, echoing in her head. “Don't you _dare_.”

She missed him. Hadn't spoken to him in far too long. Her best friend, her anchor. Often her source of sanity.

And now she knew she would never see him again.

 

…

 

Lighter now. The sun must be up. The coldness had seeped into her so deep she was past shivering now. Not that it mattered. Her lower half felt nonexistant and her upper half was floating on a sea of apathy and dullness.

Something clattered by her head and she waited for the rest of it to come down. To crash into the rest of her. Finally kill her.

She felt like she had been here for days but logic told her that couldn’t be true. Not even bothering to close her eyes she allowed herself to drift. Maybe she would simply drift off to sleep and it wouldn’t matter any longer.

“Don’t even think that Romanoff.” His voice was a low snarl in her head. There was an order in there somewhere but she was too weak to even rise to the bait.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a voice she didn’t even recognize as her own. “I’m so sorry….”

 

**Day 2 - Buried**

 

“Don't give up Tasha. Come on. You've been through worse.” Even in her head Clint's voice sounded panicked. It was almost enough for her to believe he was really there. That if she opened her eyes she'd see him above her, hovering, worried expression pinching his eyes. Hair mussed as he ran a hand through it. “We'll find you. I swear, someone will find you.” Now it was full of desperation.

Natasha knew better. Knew no one would find her because that's exactly what she had wanted. There had been no hesitation in walking away from everyone including those people she had considered friends. Those she had cared about. To protect them she had told herself. While she had no problem leaving her signature behind when she was done, she didn't want anyone to know where she was until then. Letting them know meant someone might try to stop her. It wouldn't be the first time she and Clint faced off and none of those times had been pleasant.

And while she didn't think _he_ would interfere she still wasn't ready to face him again. Romanoff had run like a scared child when his words had cut too close. When she realized he was right and she cared for him. When she realized it could potentially turn into something more.

Weakly she rubbed her face with her good hand, feeling the grit and grime scrubbing harshly against her skin. She was still cold. Body had stopped shivering ages ago though, which wasn't a good sign. In spite of the heat of this place she felt like she was inside some kind of freezer. Blood loss. Her rational mind knew that. That she had even survived the collapse was nothing short of a miracle. She knew that. But she also knew she was dying. Her body had only delayed the inevitable. As if she needed proof her still broken arm could attest to it. It had never taken this long to heal a simple fractured bone. Nor had she ever felt so much pain from it. Lower body was still completely numb which was probably for the best. If a simple broken arm hurt so bad her crushed lower body would drive her insane. Maybe it already had.

No light filtered in now so she assumed it was night. In the distance she could hear parts of the building shift, occasionally the sound of bits of debris falling could be heard. The charges had been set to level the entire thing. That any portion of it might still be standing was further proof something had gone wrong. It wouldn't stay standing for long, however. Structural integrity had obviously failed.

Which meant she had a few more days before it would break apart again somewhere and finally kill her. Blessed oblivion. Her days here would be done and she would finally figure out if she had redeemed herself enough to avoid the burning fires of hell.

Godless Russian indeed.

Sometimes she thought she heard people moving, voices. But then, her mind often drifted and went to where it wanted to go. Reality mixed with dreams easily.

“ _You know, if you had just stayed with me, we wouldn't be here right now.” His touch was gentle, fingers tracing along the lines of her face, hesitating before following the tracks her tears had left._

_Natasha reached up to touch him, but her hand fell away weakly. Maybe her time was finally coming close. “If I stayed I would have lost me.”_

_Lips pressed against her forehead. “I won't let that happen.”_

“ _I'm already lost.”_

_A finger against her lips. “Not yet you aren't. Hang on a few more days Natasha.”_

“ _I can't.” Tears were welling again. She didn't want to die. Not yet._

“ _Yes you can.” There was an edge to his voice now. “And you will.”_

 

 

 

**Day 3 – Trapped**

 

“ _Shh, don’t cry, there’s no time for tears right now.”_

 

She could almost feel his hands brushing them away, the rough pads of his thumbs running across her cheeks. She knew it was merely memory touch, he’d done the same thing at the resort, trying to ease her pain. But they had torn each other to pieces when it was all said and done.

 

Once again she could hear the ocean, smell the salt in the air. The waves rolling in was soothing, allowing her mind to wander. Natasha drifted on it a while, not wanting to return to reality where she was still buried under tons of rubble. Where she couldn’t feel her legs and knew she wasn’t getting out. Interspersed with almost waking moments and dreams of that place, she was haunted by memories of those she cared about. Moments where she had failed them, moments she should have changed something, anything, to provide a better outcome. Then there were the things she hadn’t done. Had she ever told Clint thank you? It was a rather large list of the things she should thank him for, but she didn’t think she’d ever done it. So many more people, so many things she had failed to do.

 

Feebly she pushed at the jagged pile of false stone. Her own actions had brought her here. Running from things she should have met head on. Hot tears again. Only they were running short. Dehydration not allowing her to even do that much any more.

 

“ _Come on Natasha, you need to get out of this.”_

 

“Shut up,” she snarled in her head. “This is all your fault.”

 

His laughter rang clear and true. _“Oh no, you don’t get to pass this off on me. You ran, plain and simple.”_ A thumb across her jawline. _“I know why you did though…”_ Gentle kisses to both eyelids. _“And I’m sorry you felt like you had to.”_ A kiss to her forehead. _“But we can’t talk about it if you don’t get out of here.”_

 

There was simply no energy to argue with him. Besides, was he wrong? Her brain felt so fuzzy, unable to piece it all together again in any kind of coherent fashion. Widow knew he wasn’t here but he sounded and felt so real. Then again Barton had sounded real only a short time before.

 

Weakly she hit the pile again, this time with the side of her fist.

 

“ _That’s right Natasha. Time to fight. You’ve got work to do.”_

 

She jerked fully awake then, unsure what had jolted her to alertness.

 

Then she heard the faint cries and realized they weren’t her own.

 

 

 

**Day 4 – Pain**

 

“ _Come on Nat, she needs you.”_

Clint's words rang inside of her and she called out again, trying to figure out where the crying was coming from. Not that it mattered much, all things considered.

The sound was definitely female, young. Had they forgotten one of the girls when they left? Dear God, _no_. She had checked everywhere. Made sure they all got out. Her brain stuttered to a stop and she realized she hadn't checked everywhere. She had missed one room. Because she knew where the man was who had been using it. Ah, hell.

Voice rusty, hoarse, unused, she called out in Thai, hoping the girl could hear her.

“You're ok. We're going to be all right.”

She hoped the words didn't sound as hollow as they felt. How the hell was she going to do anything trapped like this? With a frustrated shove, she pushed at the rubble but it didn't shift.

The crying paused only to start again. Feeling more helpless than she did even when she realized she couldn't feel her legs she tried again.

“What's your name? Mine is Natasha. I'm going to figure something out. Get us out of here, ok?”

Was that a reply? She couldn't quite tell, the sound far enough away that even her sensitive ears were having trouble picking up on it.

Opening her mouth to speak again she realized she was _thirsty_. Was that a good sign or a bad sign?

“ _A good one. Has to be.”_

Clint again. She wanted to laugh at that. Of course it would be Clint. If she somehow managed to get out of this he was never going to let her live it down. Of course, surviving it seemed almost impossible. She'd come to the conclusion something in the fall had broken her back, severed her spinal cord. It was the only real explanation. There was a definite line where she could no longer feel anything. Not even a whisper of sensation. A little ways above that it was iffy. Off and on and she thought it was bruising. Not that meant anything. If she couldn't move her legs she couldn't get either of them out of here.

Dammit she should have checked. Made _sure_ all the girls were out. This was her fault. Even if the charges weren't, _this_ was.

Crying drifted off and soon she did too.

“ _Natasha. Natasha you need to wake up.”_ His voice was as clear as Clint's had been and she felt her heart thump. _“Natasha, the building is going to shift soon. There's not much time before it all comes down. When it shifts, you'll have a moment. You can get clear.”_

“No,” she mumbled. “Can't move.”

“ _You can and you will.”_

“Can't feel my legs.” She wished she could generate anger, rage, anything besides the apathy that filled her.

“ _You will, but first you have to_ **wake up** _!”_

She felt him shake her then, head snapping back until she opened her eyes. A moment of confusion before she started to speak, to tell him he was wrong, she still couldn't feel anything.

Then searing, white hot pain shooting down her legs and she _screamed_.

 

 

**Day 5 – Shift**

 

Throat raw from screaming, her lower body on fire, Natasha clawed at the concrete. Nails broke, bleeding, down to the quick but she didn't notice. Anything, anything to make the excruciating pain in her lower half go away. Tears had ceased falling, her body no longer had any moisture to give for them. The dried tracks amid the dust on her skin a testament to their passing.

This was the part where she prayed for death. Never in her life had she felt anything like this. Her screams had made the girl cry harder and Natasha envied her ability to do so. Even realizing it, Romanoff couldn't stop herself. Every time the lightning came all she wanted to do was die. Nothing else in the world could possibly feel like this. Nothing else in the world could make her blind with pain. She would rip her own heart out of her chest if it would _make it stop._ It was so bad now she couldn't pass out if she tried.

No more voices, or if there were, she couldn't hear them over the sound of her own agonized howls.

_POP_

There it was again. Noise from somewhere in the building. Followed by a vibration that rang in her legs like a bell, tearing whimpers of agony from her. But she could _feel_ it. He had been right. It was shifting. Moving. Something was going to happen soon. The noises had become more frequent. Vibrations stronger now than they had been. And she didn't think it was because she could feel things now. No, this was definitely a change in the structure.

No sooner had the thought passed her mind than she felt the first drop. A fraction of an inch maybe, nothing more. Not enough. But it meant the floor under her was going to give. At this point she wasn't even sure which floor she ended up on and how many there might be under her. But another fall, another drop with tons of rubble onto her again and she knew she would die.

A cracking, sound traveling along a line coming ever closer to her. Upper body tensed and hands scrambled for purchase under them. Someplace with traction that would allow her to move when the chance came.

Another subtle drop. This one larger than the last, but not by much. She tried pulling herself out but she was still trapped somewhere along her legs. Rumbling next. From the lower levels. Something was already giving way. _Not much time._ No where near enough.

And then there was no choice.

_BOOM_

The floor under her began to fall away in chunks. She could feel it when they hit ground below, the reverberations carrying throughout the unstable structure. Then her legs were free and she pushed, shoving her way out from under the debris. Hips caught and she cursed in frustration.

_No, not like this._

Another scream and she was free. Arms pulled her backwards, her feet only managing a few twitches, no help at all. Still not clear where she was, she rolled over onto her stomach pausing only a few seconds to see if there was a way out. There, a door. God only knew where it would lead. But this room wasn't going to last and she knew it.

Crawling she made her way as quickly as she could towards it, hoping it was the way out.

 

 

**Day 6 – Broken**

 

_The girl, have to get the girl._

The thought was racing in her head as she came to. Somewhere she had passed out again, either from pain or sheer exhaustion, she didn't know. It didn't matter. Unsure how much time had passed now that she couldn't see any real day light, she told herself to hurry.

“ _Come on Tasha, you got this. I know you do.”_

Ever the cheerleader, Barton's voice urged her forward. Still crawling with her arms, her legs were finally able to give a small push now and again before they fell useless again. The jacket she worse, stolen from the man in the room, didn't protect her nearly enough and she wished more than once for her suit. God only knew where it had ended up in this mess. Everything had been taken, including her weapons and beacon embedded in her belt. And she had willingly given them up.

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid girl._

And all of this over a _man_. If it hadn't been such a dire situation she might have laughed. A man who could wait to move on without her no less. She'd been at his place. Knew the parade of women he'd had through there. Knew he hadn't even gotten the taste of her out of his mouth before doing so. Her instincts had been right.

“ _Are you sure about that?”_

His voice was mocking and cocky.

“No one asked you,” she muttered under her breath.

Dragging herself down what was left of the hallway, she tried to find the girl. There was no more crying. No sounds to indicate where she was or if she was even still alive. Sound carried oddly in places like this, bouncing around, echoing until pinpointing it was nearly impossible. But Natasha thought it had come from this direction. Voice still hoarse, she tried to cry out, tried to get the girl to speak again.

The narrow space seemed never ending. The building was making more sounds, the vibrations carrying to her easily now. There wasn't much time left before the whole thing was gone. Before there was no strength left in it and everything failed.

Just like she had. Failure welled up in her and she tried to fight it back. Tried to push it away long enough to get the job done. She had failed herself, but more importantly she had failed this one child. If she had done her due dilligence, had double checked everything they way she should have, they wouldn't be here now. Neither of them. The building trembled under her. Trying to find the girl could very well cost her the life she hadn't quite given up. It was a price she was willing to pay.

In front of her part of the all collapsed, falling away with a noise that seemed to be the beginning of something big. Forced to stop, she looked at the remaining section trying to find a way across it. Had she been able to move fast, she could make it. Moving as she was though, it was more likely she would fall with it.

In the end though, there was nowhere else to go.

“ _Get out of there Natasha.”_

It was a command and it made her bristle. He had no right to demand anything out of her now. He had no claim on her. For all his proclimations, he hadn't cared. Hadn't wasted a single section once she was gone. Why had she ever doubted he would? Now she regretted his last memory of her might have been vaguely pleasant. A dream memory he couldn't quite place.

_Damn him._

What was left of the floor was less than half the width. Barely as wide as she was. Closing her eyes a moment she took stock of her body, felt her legs. If she could get them to work, then maybe....

Pulling herself forward she tried to push with her feet. She felt the floor crumbling away beneath her. Felt the pieces when they were no longer there.

Hands pulled her desperately when she felt the floor give way under her and the world went sideways.

 

 

**Coming Home**

 

Bamboo walls and a grass roof were all she managed to see when her eyes fluttered open a brief moment.

“Shhh, you are safe.”  The woman’s voice spoke accented English and somewhere in her pain fogged brain, Natasha recognized it.  Even if she couldn’t come up with a name.  “We can’t stay here long, but we had to make arrangements.  We had to pull the strands of your web. But you are safe.”

A cool hand against her forehead and Widow found she couldn’t force her eyes back open again, instead tumbling back into darkness.  Not even dreams cut through the darkness.

…

Sunlight on her face.

It was the first thing she felt.  Clean air when she inhaled.  The sound of the waves coming in.   _That_ was what made her open her eyes.  But it wasn’t the plush room of the resort that greeted her.  Instead it was spartan, small.  Stone walls surrounded her in the tiny room, the mattress she lay on rested on the floor.  Without turning her head she could see no more and wasn’t sure she cared.  Light from what had to be a window above her somewhere warmed her face and her eyes drifted closed again.

She was  _alive_.

How it had happened Natasha didn’t know.  Wasn’t sure she even wanted to ask.  Maybe this was Hell, or some sort of Limbo where they decided her fate.  But that idea didn’t feel right to her.

Besides, would Limbo come with all the assorted body pains?

That was the thing that truly convinced her she was alive.  The pain.  Not the deep searing, lightning hot pain she felt while buried.  There was that at least.

A faint squeak as the door she couldn’t see opened and she sensed someone stepping inside.

“You’re awake.”

The voice was soft, undoubtedly feminine.

“That means I can’t be dead then.”  Her own voice was a mere whisper. Harsh and raspy with disuse.  “How long have I been here?”  Not that she was entirely sure where here was.  It could be a lot of places.  And her sense of time was nearly nonexistent at the moment.

“The Monastery.”  It was enough to open her eyes and look at the woman before her.  Orange robes.  Shaved head.  The peaceful presence.  A monk then.  One of the rebel female monks.  “They brought you here when they determined it was safe to move you again.  You’ve been here three days.”

The Black Widow was safely ensconced in her web.  These women had helped her before.  Because they lived outside the law in a place where men and Thai officials refused to acknowledge their existence, it made them perfect for helping to slip children out of the country to someplace safer.

Three days?  Three days since she had tried to free herself from the building?  She didn’t think so.  Images of a small bamboo hut came to mind and she had the sense she had spent a few days there.

Coming to sit on the floor next to her, the older woman took her hand gently.  “It took them a few days to feel they could bring you here.  When you didn’t check in after the children your web knew there was something wrong.  They went looking for you.”

Listening with half an ear Natasha tested her body.  Her broken arm ached but it no longer felt broken, just very sore.  Fragile.  Her toes moved on command, but doing just that small movement hurt bad enough it made her breath catch.  She was grateful to be able to do it though.  Fatigue washed over her.

“There was a girl….”  The words hurt more than her body did.  Pierced her heart.  Nearly made it stop.

“No girl, just you.”

Warm brown eyes studied her.  Romanoff winced as she moved her head to look at the small woman next to her.  “I heard her…”

“No girl,” the monk insisted.  “Not that they found.”

That couldn’t be right and Natasha struggled to sit up.

“No Widow.  You need rest.”  The hand let go of her own to press against her chest, pushing her back down into the thin mattress.  “We have sheltered many of your children here.  We will shelter you as well.  My sisters and I will see to it.”

The words were mean to calm but she felt restless.  Exhausted, unable to move, but restless.  

Sleep stole at the edges of her awareness again.  When had the mere act of speaking ever worn her out this way?  Never.  Near the edge his voice was soft in her head.  His touch gentle across her skin.

“ _You’re safe.  You need to heal.”_

It was enough for her to let go.

…

More time.  Despite the fact she didn’t know how much, she knew it had been too long.  She needed to go.  Every minute she was with them potentially put them in danger.  And there were things she needed to do.  Finally able to move on her own, she rolled over onto her hands and knees.  The ability to move didn’t come easy and did not come without pain.  Gritting her teeth through it she pushed through until she could stand.  The window showed her it was dark outside still. Fresh clothes had been set out for her when she felt ready for them. Simple home spun cloth, hand sewn into garments that would fit her. They would help her to blend in a place where she couldn’t help but stand out.  She owed the sisters a great debt.

Just the act of getting dressed took far too long.  Dawn was threatening the edge of the horizon when she stumbled out of the small building attached to the larger monastery.  

Still in Thailand.  It gave her the starting point.  Now she just had to get halfway across the world.  God but she hurt.  The pain made her wonder exactly how far she had managed to heal.  Not as much as she wanted.  How was that possible?  Broken bones healed in the matter of a day or two with her.  Or did.  Now… now she still felt like she should be in the hospital, not that she would stay there either.  Her insides weren’t right and the thought of food made her want to heave.

There was no way she would try to predict how long it would take for her to get to London.  Hell, it might be the last thing she ever did.  At this point she wouldn’t doubt it.  But the need to tell him she had been wrong drove her.  That’s what she told herself anyway.  Just to tell him she was sorry.  Any other emotion wasn’t to be examined. Not now.  Not when every step, every breath, was a struggle.  

Each step also threatened blackness but she fought it, shoving it aside roughly each time it loomed.

…

Instead of hours, it had taken  _days_  to reach Prague.  Her bolt hole was there, waiting for her.  Only one attack on her way, and for that she was grateful.  There was no way she could fight for herself right now and she had taken a few blows before she could slip away, leaving the two men behind.  Widow would remember them though.  And they would wish she hadn’t.

In the shower it was everything she had to just stand there, letting the water run over her.  To wash away the filth and blood left behind. The water ran brown and red.  Only able to stand for a handful of minutes, she collapsed onto the cot with her hair still soaking wet and water drying on her skin.

…

A simple flight to London would only take a few hours.  The train several more, but less than a day.  Neither option was safe. Everyone thought she was dead and it was better that way.

_Did he know?_

The thought rose unbidden.  Doubtful.  She had taken great pains to make sure he knew nothing of her whereabouts.  Not that it mattered to him anyway.

_Then why are you heading there?_

There wasn’t a satisfactory answer to that.  Even a day and a half later she couldn’t answer it.  Standing only a few blocks from his flat, nearly dead on her feet, she hugged a wall for support.  That she had left far too soon had been evident within a few hours of leaving, but she’d been driven anyway.  The need to find him stronger than the need to heal.

Pushing herself away from the brick, she stumbled, slamming into it, head bouncing off the corner hard enough to make her vision go dark and her stomach turn.  Stars floated behind her eyes.  Warm blood ran from her temple but she didn’t bother trying to stop the flow.  She needed to  _get_  there.  He would keep her safe.  Allow her time to heal.  No matter what happened between them, Natasha believed that.

As if the thoughts of him summoned his place, it loomed in front of her and she staggered up the steps.  It was only a few flights but it took her almost a half hour to navigate them.  When she arrived at this door she was panting, her body ready to stop.  Consciousness was slipping away and she knew she wouldn’t be able to force herself upright for long.

Her hand shook, both from exhaustion and fear, as it hovered in front of his door before knocking lightly.  It was all she had left.  His footsteps could be heard through the door.

When it swung open she barely managed to look up before she felt herself falling, her mind and body unable to push forward anymore.  His arms caught her, the concern on his face flashed in her mind.

Natasha had made it.  Bond’s arms around her felt like home and some of the pain receded at his mere touch.

“James…”

 

 

 


End file.
